Distant Tears
by TyphoonTyrant
Summary: I'm a very depressed little author right now... The story is about Pietro Maximoff and an unknown mutant with only a nickname to show for her Identity.
1. Prologue: Nameless Observer

Warning: I honestly hate to admit this… but this is slash Lance/Pietro, and being a big Pietro fan and owner of a private collection of too-many-to-count Mary-Sue/Pietro stories, this really, honestly surprised me that I had it in me to write this… It is a sad story, and is written from the perspective of an unnamed mutant who I just invented for this story.  
Extra-Super-Duper-Just-In-Case-Warning: I wrote this at 'bout 1am. 'Nuff said.  
/feh./ italics.  
feh. thought.  
"feh." Speech.  
  
  
  
She cried into her pillow, the last words of a boy she never met fresh in her mind. She had been called "gifted", but indeed it was a curse. The curse of never knowing whose mind you'll encounter next, or if you'll ever know them. The mind she had just encountered was the mind of a cocky young man with pale skin silver hair and pale eyes to match. She had been monitoring this unknown boy for weeks, learning about his life, his relationships. His troubles. She had heard the mind-bending, heart-breaking over-the-phone arguments the boy and his father had. Pietro. That had been his name. She could tell that he was on the verge of something awful, unaware of the strange presence watching over him and mourning the oncoming fate that lay on the boy like a thick, strange blackened ash from something like that of an explosion.  
She never would have expected that there were others like her, "mutants" but apparently there were. And they had problems too. But his were too much to bear. It tore her from the most delicate and vital emotions of a human soul to her very flesh. She wanted friends… And he almost seemed like an unknowing one… She enjoyed learning of his odd life in the Brotherhood of Mutants, where he was referred to as Quiksilver and Maximoff… She was never called by a nickname or her last name… She resolved to give herself one. Later. It had until this point been unimaginable to her what could drive a person to take their very own life away, but now she understood. The hurt inside made her understand. She had come to appreciate this boy in a way she hadn't previously appreciated anyone. She was always alone… And now she wished she had a life… a life like the fast talking speedster who she now mourned… She struggled not to remember anything… But memories are tougher than that. It takes time to forget. So for a while she would have to remember…  
  
Sorry that the prologue is so short… I'll work on extending the next chapter. I needed to write this much… And if I should stop writing this fic, send me annoying flames ordering me to continue, that oughta do it… Oh… and if the Magneto/Pietro relationship is scewed, please alert me.  



	2. Chapter 1: April Fools

Warning: I honestly hate to admit this… but this is slash Lance/Pietro, and being a big Pietro fan and owner of a private collection of too-many-to-count Mary-Sue/Pietro stories, this really, honestly surprised me that I had it in me to write this… It is a sad story, and is written from the perspective of an unnamed mutant who I just invented for this story.  
Extra-Super-Duper-Just-In-Case-Warning: I wrote this past my bedtime after staying up 'till one am yesterday writing.. 'Nuff said.  
/feh./ italics.  
feh. thought.  
"feh." Speech.  
***** Sections (some of these sections are very small... iow, they're all small, so don't flame me about length, pleeeeaaase...)  
  
  
It had been another very odd day in the Brotherhood household. April Fool's Day style. Todd had temporarily turned the tables on the others, playing April Fool's day pranks on each of them in turn. Blob had attempted to prank the others... Failing miserably. Pietro had his share of pranks, and all of them executed in under 20 seconds... But Lance had a better plan... He had decided he would set up a scene to check the reaction of all of his fellow Brotherhood mutants. He would stage his own death, and see how everyone responded. And so began his long and twisted prank.  
Pietro was packing up for his dash to school. Lance walked by him, sticking a small piece of paper onto the back of his backpack, the smaller of the two pranks he had planned. Unfortunately, Pietro caught this. "Funny. Kick me? How original." Despite the bitterness in his voice, Lance could make out the smirk of the others' lowered face. He simply smiled and walked out, waving a hand ver his shoulder and saying a quick, "'bye" before leaving.  
"Hey, Froggy! Lance called to Todd as he made his way to school, where he would not be actually attending today. He lowered his voice to a secretive whisper, forcing Todd to lean in to hear him.  
"I betcha I can lift that motorcycle better than you can..." He taunted. Todd raised a skeptical eyebrow.  
"'Kay. I ain't a /complete/ idiot, yo." Todd stated simply. "I ain't just gonna jump when you say so. 'Specially not so you can prank me on April Fool's Day. I ain't a fool, yo." He finished, arms interlocked across his chest.  
"Huh. Fine then. You /obviously can't do it." Lance said, continuing towards the school.  
Todd paused, uncertain. Then, like an idiot, he asked, "What d'ya need it for?" Lance turned around, and, carefully concealing his satisfaction, explained to Todd that He needed it for nothing more than a simple trip by the lake. At sunset. He lied and said that he and Pietro were going together, when in truth, Pietro knew nothing of his plan.  
*****  
One hour and two motorcycles later, Lance had what he wanted for his prank, and had made it to the lake. Luckily, Todd was still able to make it to school, even if an hour late... Lance however, had more preparations to make. He had to set one of the motorcycles in the bottom of the lake, and set up a working path so that he wouldn't slip so easily into the lake. That was for them to think. He had planned everything carefully a few days earlier, so that he wouldn't actually commit the act he'd make them believe he had. He wanted them to believe that he had tricked Todd into stealing a motorcycle under the pretenses that it was for him and Pietro to have a romantic picnic, but, in fact, had gone off with it to do some unknown chore by the lake, then accidentally slipping into the water with a small resounding splash. Topping it off with a cry for help- a minor earthquake.This is perfect! He thought with relish. Before continuing to create the scene that they would all fall for. He then frowned. He had to be /certain/ he wouldn't actually fall in. Definitely not on a motorcycle.  
*****  
Lance sat down on a log, contemplating. How /would/ they react? He needed to make sure Pietro wouldn't do anything drastic. Or any of the others, for that matter. He began to worry, then shook the fear from his mind. He would make it back to the house in time to monitor their reactions. No Worries. At least that's what he told himself. He decided that he must wait until sunset. By that time, also, everything would be prepared.  
*****  
As the night air began to chill, Pietro's worry only increased. Todd had told him about Lance's request, nudging him suggestively. When Pietro reacted in a confused manner, Todd realized that Lance had just tricked him. He had stammered out an apology before Pietro went outside to wait for Lance's return. Pietro knew that he could easily run to the lake before sunset, but knew that if he did it would put himself and Lance in an awkward position. He would have to tell Lance of his suspicion and worry, and that would absolutely shoot his pride. Lance would also have whatever he had planned spoiled, which would anger him. Pietro became more concerned. What /was/ Lance planning? Was this just another April Fool's prank? Perhaps he /is/ having a romantic picnic. Pietro thought sullenly. Perhaps I just wasn't included... Of course Pietro said none of this aloud, despite the fact that he was absolutely unaware of the mutants watching him through the window, also listening through the open door to his frequent worried sighs.  
Toad sighed and turned from the window to plop down on the floor next to it. "This isn't cool, yo." He stated. Fred frowned, not noticing the obviousness of the comment.  
"Hope he's okay..." Fred said uselessly. What more was there to say? It was the truth, and the only truth they could reach at this time. Other than the fact that Lance was being an idiot. Fred departed the window, heading to his room upstairs.  
"Where you goin'?" Todd asked. It had not occurred to him that they had never before cared about Lance and Pietro's relationship, except for avoiding it like the plague, and that perhaps Fred was tiring of this sudden awkward slowness and stillness. Perhaps he didn't care about the novel concept of Pietro being concerned anymore. Perhaps he was bored of watching a guy just /sitting/ there doing nothing but sighing and giving the occasional involuntary twitch.  
"I'm going to bed," He answered calmly and softly, closing the door behind him.  
*****  
She sighed softly. She was all for going to bed, but she was curious. What /was/ Lance doing? /Where/ was he? /Why/ was he taking so long? It wasn't fair for him to worry Pietro like this. And to think, she had long ago vowed not to speak of fairness, for there was none in the world. Perhaps if Pietro would simply swallow his pride and go after Lance, she could stop worrying and go to bed with the knowledge that all was well. But as she thought this, she felt a distinct warning tugging on her mind, trying to convince her that all was not well. She mentally batted it away like a bothersome fly. Nothing would go wrong. It was probably just a prank. Pietro would be surprised was all. That was her bad feeling. But that was unimportant; insignificant. She sighed again. He'd better hurry up and get back. And with that she fell back into her state of careful concentration, studying Pietro as he waited patiently for his special friend to return.  
*****  
It was sunset, and Lance had yet to finish his chore. He had fallen asleep, and had woken up moments ago, cursing his luck that the sun was already going down. Now he had to worry about the darkness. Would he be able to see well enough to speed the motorcycle past the ledge without going in? He would have to if he wanted to leave the correct tire tracks. He pulled himself onto the cushioned leather seat. He had already ditched the other one Blah... what an expensive prank... This will be, about, oh three years of repayment., and cleared out a relatively safe path to ride on. Also, he had picked out a secluded spot to hide afterwards, as he made the earthquake, so they wouldn't find him. He smirked to himself I am a genius.... Then he revved up the engine and drove. No one would have suspected, what with his careful planning, what would happen next.  
The motorcycle became a bit unstable as he traversed down the now surprisingly less cleared path. Damn, I thought I had cleared it up better than this! He thought angrily. He realized he'd never make the sudden turn by the lake on the bumpy ground... He attempted to stop or even slow the bike, but to no avail. On this rocky downhill slope, there was nothing he could do but pray. And even a miracle wouldn't save him now. Oh God, forgive me... Pietro... I'm sorry... I'm so so sorry... This was idiotic... I can't believe this... Oh God, I don't wanna die yet... Please someone save me! However, he had indeed picked a secluded area for this venture. He cried out, but to no avail. In fact, the motorcycle toppled over, pinning his leg and, he imagined, shattering it, judging by the sudden immense pain that no accompanied his fear. He saw the edge coming up. "Goodbye Pietro..." He said quietly to the wind as he set off the resounding earthquake that he would have given as a part of his prank. "Goodbye..." The earthquake he had planned was minor. His head throbbed as he exerted himself and his power, struggling to maintain this immense earthquake a bit longer... He had to say goodbye, even if it was only a shaking of the ground Pietro sat on.  
*****  
Pietro felt a jolting earthquake that made him leap instantly to his feet. "Lance!Whatthehellisgoingon?Whatthehelldoeshethinkhe'sdoing?" He tore off in the direction of the lake, terrified for Lance's sake, no longer caring for his pride. What he found was tire tracks at a ledge. Going /off/ the ledge. He immediately posed for a dive, springing off of the ledge and into the water. He swam at a break-neck pace even for him to the bottom, to find Lance, pinned to the bottom by the motorcycle on his leg, which was so contorted that it looked more like a knotted rope. It had gotten caught in the motorcycle, pulling him to his death at the bottom. Pietro struggled to pull Lance free from the motorcycle, failing miserably, as he was starting to panic from lack of oxygen. He swam quickly to the stop, panting and crying, until the X-Men, in "uniform", appeared on the ledge.  
*****  
When they arrived, they attempted to assess the situation while getting Pietro out of the way.  
"Letgoofmeyouidiots!Letgo!Ihavetogogethim!LETMEGO!!!" They ignored his pleas, though they were sympathetic, saying nothing. He was still crying, and thrashing, fighting against them. "Youdontunderstand!Heneedsmeletmegogethimnow!Ihaftahelphim!IHAFTAHELPHIM!LETMEGO!" He continued this until he felt a pinprick in his side, and, shocked, looked up to see the perpetrator was none other than a sorrowful and sympathetic Jean Grey, whose apologies and explanations became jumbled thoughts, nothingness, darkness. Beautiful, Gentle, Forgiving, Kind Darkness.  
*****  
Only days later, Pietro attended the funeral of the boy he had and still loved so much. He was crying. He no longer cared if people saw him cry. If it hadn't been for the same pride that told him not to cry, Lance might still be alive. He might have gone to the lake to see what Lance was doing. Spoiled the prank. What a prank. Pietro thought bitterly. He missed him so much... And probably always would.  
*****  
That night Todd snuck in through the window of Pietro's otherwise locked room, trying to discover why the boy was being so silent. "You're being all quiet yo, figured I'd check up on--" The answer made him stop in his tracks, losing his dinner all over the floor. "Oh no... Oh no, Oh no, Oh no... I did /not/ just see this... Oh my gosh... Freddy... FREDDY!! Get me a phone! QUICK!! Pietro's just done 'imself in!!!"  
  
  
Blah... I hate writing suicide after death of friend fics... 'specially 'bout my fave chars... But it actually isn't over yet. Blah...  
So, I'm proud to say that this is MUCH longer than I'd expected. And it is now 10:31 at night. I'm sleepy. Took me two days or 6 Man-hours to write this fic. Which is embarrassingly short. Oh well. I can't believe I'm being so uncaring... . Anyhow...  



	3. Chapter 2: Crimson Lake

Warning: I honestly hate to admit this… but this is slash Lance/Pietro, and being a big Pietro fan and owner of a private collection of too-many-to-count Mary-Sue/Pietro stories, this really, honestly surprised me that I had it in me to write this… It is a sad story, and is written from the perspective of an unnamed mutant who I just invented for this story.  
Extra-Super-Duper-Just-In-Case-Warning: I wrote this past my bedtime after staying up 'till one am yesterday writing.. 'Nuff said.  
/feh./ italics.  
feh. thought.  
"feh." Speech.  
Note: This whole chapter should be INCREDIBLY small.  
  
She sat silently on her bed, knees dran up to her chin. She had stopped crying, though her cheeks were still glistening. Silently she sat there. Contemplating. Pietro Maximoff. Just another mind she encountered in the twisted playground that was the web of minds she encountered. Soon she would be disturbed and disrupted from her reverie. She couldn't have that. But seeing the time on the clock next to her bed, she knew it was almost time. Breakfast. The meal you wake up to every morning. The meal you dread on sunday nights, and the meal you look forward to on Thursday nights. Thinking of what had happened still, she stood up and waited. After a while of simply standing there waiting, the door slowly opened by the hand of a man just out of his extensive college medical training.  
"Hello again. How are you this morning? Remember anything new? Are you hungry?" He asked in a voice that was falsely happy.  
"Yes, Dr.Redfern. I'm well, and I am indeed hungry. I remember nothing new, but I have decided upon a name for myself." She said, carefully listing the answers as he had done the questions.  
"Oh yes? What's that?" He asked in a genuinely curious tone. Understandable. If someone said something so odd with such /certainty/ it had to mean something.  
She approached him until her lips brushed his ear. "Crimson Lake, like blood, and a lake that one might drown in. Namely one pinned beneath a motorcycle..." She said menacingly. He was visibly frightened. He ordered her to sit down on the bed. To wait there-- no, no, that would be dangerous, to come with him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the head office.  
"This young lady has been acting out on strange impulses and has reported to hearing voices..." She heard him babble on. He was obviously going to report what she'd said. In a mental institution, freaks get in trouble for threats. But with her new experience, she couldn't help it. She struggled not to remember anything, but memories are tougher than that. It takes time to forget. So for now she would have to remember. It was indeed a curse. Not a gift. Far from a gift.  
  
  
Sorry, I know I said twould be short, but this is even shorter than /I/ expected. Well, Crimson Lake actually isn't insane. She's just different. And she's learned to cope with differences. Perhaps I'll make more about her. She's a pretty cool chick. For a "freak".  



End file.
